ty to change my mind," said Rosamund, her dark
eyes flashing with anger.

"Oh! of course you were. But it would have been more polite to let me
know. Not that it matters. I was not particularly keen to talk to you. I
am so glad that Miss Archer is my friend. She gave me to understand last
night how much she liked me, and how much she meant to help me with my
studies. I believe from what she says that she considers I shall be
quite the cleverest girl in the school. She believes in hereditary
talent, and my dear father is a sort of genius, so, of course, as his
only child, I ought to follow in his footsteps."

"Of course you ought," said Rosamund in a calm voice. "Then be the
cleverest girl in the school."

"I mean to have a great try," said Lucy, with a laugh; and Rosamund gave
her an unpleasant glance.

CHAPTER V.

AN INVITATION.

If any girl failed to enjoy herself on the following Saturday at
Dartford, she had certainly only herself to blame. As a matter of fact,
the whole seven, without exception, had a right good time. Even Lucy
forgot her jealousies, and even Rosamund forgot her anger. They were so
much interested in Mrs. Brett and her husband, in the things they did,
and the things they could tell, and the things they could show, and the
whole manner of their lives, that they forgot themselves.

Now, to forget yourself is the very road to bliss. Many people take a
long time finding out that most simple secret. When they do find it out
and act on it they invariably live a life of great happiness and
equanimity, and are a great blessing to other people. Lucy and Rosamund
were far--very far--from such a desirable goal, but for a few hours they
did act upon this simple and noble idea of life, and in consequence were
happy.

But Saturday at the Bretts', with all its bliss, came to an end, and the
girls returned to beautiful Sunnyside and to the life of the new and
rather strangely managed school.

Sunday was a long and dreary day, at least in Rosamund's eyes, and but
for an incident which occurred immediately after morning service, she
scarcely knew how she could have got through it.

Mr. Merriman had a pew at one end of the church, which had belonged to
his people for generations, and which was not altered when the rest of
the church was restored. It was large enough now to hold his wife and
himself and the seven girls; but the two teachers were accommodated in
another part of the church. Rosamund